


Coming to Candyland

by ficlicious



Series: Tumblr Prompts & Ficlets [10]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Closet Sex, Developing Relationship, Enabled By Readers, F/M, Feels, Female Tony Stark, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Avengers (2012), Relationship Negotiation, Rule 63, The Author Regrets Nothing, sequel fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:15:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8029201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficlicious/pseuds/ficlicious
Summary: “So,” he says, and for the life of her Toni can’t tell if he’s angry or amused or something in between, because he sounds like both and neither at the same time. “You flew a nuke through a hole in the sky.”





	Coming to Candyland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Medie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/gifts), [Sodiumn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodiumn/gifts), [Breyito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breyito/gifts).



> *sigh* I write one tiny little smutlet and suddenly y’all goad me into more. :P
> 
> Sequel to For Science.
> 
> This isn’t all that smutty. Should be safe enough.
> 
> Edit: Guess I should tag @medie and @sodiumn here. It’s their fault.

Toni keeps choking on her shawarma, because Bruce is eyeing her across the table with one iris its usual warm brown and the other a baleful green. She’s battered and bruised from head to toe, has days of repairs ahead on her armor, and just kinda wants to collapse in a bed and sleep for a week. She smiles nervously, because it’s kinda freaking her out a little, and ducks her head to chew her meal. 

They disperse one by one after that, going wherever it is hawks and spiders and gods and Capsicles go when there aren’t aliens pouring out of the sky, and then it’s just her and Bruce. Who is still looking at her with one brown eye and one acid-green.

“So,” he says, and for the life of her Toni can’t tell if he’s angry or amused or something in between, because he sounds like both and neither at the same time. “You flew a nuke through a hole in the sky.”

“Sure did!” she chirps, and it’s only after it’s out of her mouth that it occurs to her that, in his case, snark is not her friend. She freezes statue-still when his other eye bleeds green and hostile, and a low growl rolls out of his throat. She carefully sets the remainder of her shawarma back in the wax paper wrap, and dusts the crumbs from her hands. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says, and the edge of a growl that’s still in his voice sends a shiver down her spine, makes her breath catch in her throat.

“Well,” her voice has gone down half an octave all by itself, and she reaches slowly towards him, sliding her fingers into his when he doesn’t pull away or stop her. His hand locks tight around hers, squeezing almost painfully, and it socks her low and hot, like a jolt from Thor’s hammer. “What do you want to do about it, gentlemen?”

“Gentlemen? Plural?” His eyebrows go up and his lips curve and, despite the angry green eyes, it’s such a _Bruce_ expression that Toni feels just the slightest bit mushy. She should start running now, because she has an extreme aversion to anything approaching real feelings or commitment or going gooey and star-eyed over some science nerd’s grin. 

It’s too late to run though. Way too late. It was probably too late the second she spouted what was arcane nonsense to the room, and unexpectedly got arcane nonsense back. “Yeah, doofus,” she says. “Plural. You, and the Other Guy. You’re a package deal, aren’t you?”

“Wasn’t aware you were shopping for a deal,” he murmurs, and the green is fading, retreating. She’s a little sorry to see it go. 

She shrugs, scoops up her last bite of shawarma and pops it in her mouth. “Neither was I,” she says. “I’m the world’s most impulsive buyer. Carpe diem, Bruciebear. Or, in your case, carpe hulkum. Carpe bruce-um? Whatever. Seize the hot. Latin was never my strongest language." 

His mouth twitches. "Carpe illecebra. I think.”

“Like I said, whatever.” She shrugs, but smiles. “I’ve got to get back to the tower. Start running damage control. Start running repairs. Start… a lot of things. Too many things to think of. But. Important question: you gonna ditch me too or are you coming to Candyland with me?”

“That’s still on the table?”

“Yes. It’s still on the table. Mostly just keeping my spot warm until you can spread me over it and convince me this morning wasn’t a really hot hallucination brought on by the Glowstick of Destiny.”

“I’m not what you call low maintenance, Toni.” Dammit, he’s waffling, wavering. Trying to convince himself of some noble shit like it’s safer if he goes and he’s such a monster and other terribly boring excuses. 

She sticks out her hand and, in some confusion, he shakes it. “Hi. I’m Toni fucking Stark. I make dealing with the backstage rider at a J-Lo concert look like restful meditation. You cannot outdo me for high maintenance requirements, sweetheart. And since I’m already hopelessly attached to both of you — really raunchy sex and the whole saving my life thing. Honestly, I may have Disney Damsel syndrome now — it’s probably going to have to be you two who run.”

“And what if… I don’t run?” It has to be a novel thought, because he’s looking amazed and bewildered it came out of his mouth.

“Then you come with me to Candyland, and I show you my sinfully huge shower, and then my carnally comfortable bed, and we sleep for a month.” She tilts her head, blinks innocently at Bruce. “After you fuck me stupid again, of course.”

“Yes.” It’s another of the Hulk’s growls, and Toni squeaks as Bruce snatches her up out of the chair and pulls her into his lap, shoving his hands into her hair and tilting her head back. “I should say no, but I’m going to say yes here.”

“Okay,” she says happily, shifts until she’s straddling him, and then grinds into him until he’s moaning and looking decidedly feral, then leans to nip his ear when his hands flex on her hips. “Back to the tower where there’s privacy,” she purrs, shifts against him again until he swears into her shoulder, “or out in the street with the cops and the reporters. I’m not picky. You guys choose.”

It ends up being the storage closet of the half-destroyed restaurant, and neither of them last long, cries muffled in each other’s mouths, but it’s the sort of happy-to-be-alive you-idiot-you-could-have-died enthusiasm edge that makes it _really good_ quick sex. And it has a different, ephemeral quality. The shine in his eyes, the way he touches her face, the way she breathes out his name… That they’re not breaking any beds or making enough noise to concern people is of no consequence. 

There are plenty of beds to break and plenty of neighbours to disturb back at Stark Tower. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr @[allthemarvelousrage](allthemarvelousrage.tumblr.com)


End file.
